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April 30, 2003
Links of the Day
Margilowry, Serenity's Journal, and The Fire Ant Gazette all complained about how Rachel Lucas has two links on my blogroll and asked why they can't be there instead. Well, guess what, just for complaining, she’s now on there three times!
Pavefrance also threatened me to be on my blogroll. Well, sorry, I'm for bombing, not paving. I want France to be a wasteland that is never touched again.
Anyway, my blogroll is getting big. Maybe I should have an application form for new blogs to be added. I think I'm arrogant enough to do that.
Oh, and a new Carnival of the Vanities is up. This one isn't giving me as much hits as last time; I think it should be a new rule for the Carnival that my link is always first.
There were other things out there I wanted to link to today, but I forgot now. Just search around the blogroll until you find something interesting.
Oh, and I'm having trouble thinking of something funny to write about tomorrow. Toss a suggestion to help me hack something out in the morning. 'night.
In My World: Career Day
"Now, I want this career day with these first graders to go well, so all of you be on your best behavior," Laura Bush warned, "and I swear, Donald, if you strangle anyone today, I'll give you a talking to you won't believe."
"Do I have to sit next to Tom Daschle?" Bush complained.
"Yes," Laura answered, "if Donald's going to make the best effort not to strangle anyone, then the least I can do is not put him next to Tom Daschle."
"I told you to bring Condi instead," Bush said.
"I don't like that woman," Laura shot back, "Now let's go into the classroom and meet the kids."
They entered the room as the teacher announced. "I have a special treat for you today, children. Laura Bush has brought four people from the government to talk to you about their jobs. So let's all be on our best behavior."
"That's goes for all of you, too," Laura warned as the four of them, the Marine, Tom Daschle, George W. Bush, and Donald Rumsfeld, who took seats in front of the class.
"I guess I'll start," said the Marine, "My name is Buck, Buck the Marine. My job is to kill foreigners. There are a lot of foreigners running around out there, so I have my work cut out for me. I just got back from Iraq. There were a lot of foreigners there, and there are now many less."
"So what do you like best about your job?" the teacher asked.
"I'd have to say the kill'n. Now, you can't just kill any foreigners, you have to follow your orders and only kill certain ones. As in Iraq, some were shooting at me, so I killed them. That was fun. Some threw down their weapons and raised their hands; I don't like that because then I can't kill them... especially not with them embedded reporters watching. I thought of killing the embedded reporter, but he ain't foreign. I only kill foreigners."
"What was it like liberating an Iraqi town?" asked the teacher.
"That had its high points and low points. Some Iraqis sniped at me, so I killed them; that was fun. Some cheered me on; couldn't kill them. A little Iraqi girl walked up and said, 'I love America.' That made me happy... but not as much as killing."
"Now children, do you have any questions for Buck?"
"How do you kill people?" asked a little boy.
"Usually with my M-16. Sometimes with my .45 caliber sidearm; 9mm is for pussies."
"We don't use that kind of language in class, Buck," the teacher politely told him.
"Sorry. Ma'am. Anyway, my favorite weapon for killing is my KaBar. I sneak up behind someone, stab him in the kidneys and hold it in; you can't scream with a blade in your kidneys. Then, when he finally goes into shock, I pull the blade out and slit his throat. It's a very effective method. I recommend you try it sometime."
"My mom came from another country; would you kill her?" a concerned little girl asked.
"If so ordered, yes, I would kill your mom. Any other questions?"
"What do you do now?"
"Right now I am on leave. I hang out with friends, drink, and talk about all my killing. I'm hoping something will happen soon in North Korea, though; never killed a Korean. Anyway, right now I have killed more people than the SARS virus, but that could change if I don't get out in the field again soon."
"Buck, why don't you tell them what you have to do to become a Marine," the teacher suggested.
"Certainly. You have to go through boot camp. There they will put you through hell. They will break down your body. They will break down your mind. They will break down your spirit. You will beg for mercy. You will not get it. You will beg for death. It will not come. If you survive - and I mean 'if' - you will be a Marine. Then you can kill foreigners. So who wants to be a Marine?"
The kids just stared at him bewildered, none of them raising their hands.
"What are you all? Fags?"
"Buck, we don't use that kind of language here," the teacher warned again.
"Now, Tom Daschle, why don't you tell the class what you do."
"Certainly. First of all, I would like to say how grateful I am for Buck's service in our military."
Buck stared at Daschle for a moment. "I don't think I like you."
"I get that a lot," Daschle said, laughing, "Anyway, children, I am a U.S. Senator. I help vote for what becomes our laws."
"You're a devil man!" screamed one child.
"Yes, I seem to radiate off sort of sinister vibe that young children pick up on," Daschle explained, "Commonly, babies cry when I come near. Most people, though, as they grow older no longer sense my evil so easily, and then may vote for me."
"My dad says you're a mean man who takes his money," said a little boy.
"I think that you're dad is just being selfish to try and keep his money. As a Senator, I'm better equipped to know how to spend people's money. And we'll be able to take even more money into our loving care if we Democrats can get a majority in 2004."
"Yeah, that will happen," Bush chuckled.
"It's not your turn, Mr. Bush," the teacher told him firmly, "Let Daschle speak. Now, Daschle, what does one have to do to become a Senator?"
"I think it's a good idea to first become a lawyer. That helps erode away your soul, which is an obstacle in politics. Then I say you need to act concerned about lots of things and talk down to people. And it's good to have a believable smile." Daschle then smiled, causing the class to cry.
"Make the scary man go away!" cried one girl.
"Maybe it's time for George Bush to speak," the teacher said, "Tell the class what your job is."
"I'm the President of the United States," Bush said proudly, "The most powerful man in the world. Maybe the universe. Within at least a few light-years from here, for sure, though. It's a fun job. I miss signing off all those executions like when I was governor, but instead I can declare wars now and kill even more bad people. You know that Iraqi war? That was my idea."
"And would just like to say I supported the troops," Daschle added, "but I was saddened how your botched diplomacy forced us into conflict."
"Oh, and I always had something I wanted to say in response to that," Bush said. He then turned to his side and punched Daschle in the face.
"You broke my nose!" Daschle screamed.
"People say I sometimes garble my words, but I think I was pretty clear there," Bush chuckled.
"There is no hitting in class!" the teacher yelled. "Daschle, you can go to the nurse. Bush, you're getting a demerit."
"I'm going to tell!" Daschle cried, running off.
"Crybaby," Bush uttered.
Laura smacked him on the back of the head. "You're embarrassing me."
The teacher added Bush's name to a list on the wall and put a frowny face next to it.
"Ha ha!" laughed a kid, "Bush got a demerit!"
"What's your name kid?"
"Well, guess what? The Andersons are about to get audited. It's going to be so stressful to your parents that they'll get divorced and it will be all your fault."
"George!" Laura yelled.
"What? He was making fun of me."
"Why don't you explain more of your job," the teacher told him.
"Alright. I have to keep the world from imploding, since the rest of the countries are a bunch of idiots. The worst is France. How can I describe this to you... France is kinda like that kid in class everyone hates who reminds the teacher to give out homework." He then pointed to a geeky looking kid wearing glasses. "Probably that kid; he's France."
"But without homework," the kid responded, "how are we going..."
"Quiet, France. I'm tired of dealing with you."
"Do you have questions for Mr. Bush?" the teacher asked the class.
"My mom says you didn't really win the election," said one boy.
"She said that, huh," Bush answered, looking a bit annoyed, "Well I want you to go home and bitch-slap her for me. And she can't ground you for it, because I pardon you."
"George!" Laura shouted.
"What?" Bush said innocently.
"You don't seem that powerful to me," said one kid.
"I am powerful."
"Are so!" Bush yelled, rising out of his seat.
The kid just stuck his tongue out.
"I'll show you!" Bush shouted, grabbing a nearby globe, "I'll just pick a country and bomb it."
"Whatever," the kid said dismissively.
"Don't do this, George!" Laura warned.
Bush spun the globe and then stopped it with his finger. "The United States! I'll bomb the... oh, better spin again." He spun the globe once more and stopped it. "Hmm... I don't know how to say this one, but I can't just spell it for them," he said as he took out his cell phone. "Hey, I want you to bomb a country spelled K-Y-R-Y-G-Z-stan... Just do it... I don't have to give you a reason why..." Bush looked to the kid with a haughty expression, "I'm the president."
Laura just shook her head.
Bush turned on a T.V. that was at the corner of the room. "After the success of the Iraqi war, a new era of peace is spreading through the Middle East," the news anchor said, "Experts say democracy will soon flourish and... This just in. The U.S. has launched an unprovoked attack against Kyrygzstan. Who knows what diplomatic damage this will do to the U.S. and to how it is viewed around the world. It could take years to repair..."
Bush turned off the T.V. "Told ya!" he said, and then stuck his tongue out at the kid.
"So what does someone have to do to become president?" the teacher asked, trying to take control again of the class.
"I think it helps if your father was president," Bush said, sitting back down, "and better make sure your stupid brother doesn't mess up the voting in his state."
"Could I one day be president?" asked a boy.
"No, you're too fat."
"George!" Laura yelled, hitting Bush on the head.
"Uh... I mean, if you work really hard, you could become president, despite your tubbiness."
"I think it's now Donald Rumsfeld's turn," the teacher said, "So what is your job."
"I am the Secretary of War."
"Defense," Laura corrected him.
"Whatever they now call it," he said with annoyance, "My job is to make sure America strikes fear into the heart of all other nations. It was through my lobbying that I made sure we had this Iraq war."
"I want to thank you for that," Buck said.
"Glad you enjoyed the war," Rumsfeld answered, "There will be more to come."
"My parents say you're an evil warmonger," said a little girl.
Rumsfeld stared at her for a few seconds. "After this, I'm going to follow you home and murder your family."
"Donald!" Laura yelled, "I told you no threatening the children!"
"Why don't you tell us more about what your job requires?" the teacher urged.
"Certainly. A Secretary of Defense must thirst for blood. He must love nothing more than to see the enemy cower before him, begging for mercy. But you must not be merciful. The enemy will see that as weakness, and we must never show weakness, for we are the United States of America."
"Ooh-rah!" Buck added.
"Are you going to kill and eat us?" asked a scared little child.
Rumsfeld considered this for a little while. "Not at this time," he finally answered.
"So what exactly do you do at your job?" the teacher asked.
"Other than the war planning and the thirsting for blood, I have to give press conferences and talk to idiot reporters. I would like to kill them all, but then next week there would just be a new set of reporters, even dumber than the last. One time there was..."
"I like the reporter with the big mustache," said a little boy.
"That child spoke out of turn; have him beaten," Rumsfeld ordered the teacher.
"We don't 'beat' children anymore," the teacher responded, "That's child abuse."
"Poppycock! When I was their age, if you were bad, they had this large stick they would beat you with for hours with. And, if you were good, they had an even bigger stick to beat you with. Beatings made you tougher, so it was a privilege to be pummeled."
"I'm confused," said one kid, "You said before you were a secretary, but I thought a secretary was the woman who gets people coffee."
"You children are insolent!" Rumsfeld shouted, pulling out his luger, "Line up for execution!"
Laura grabbed the luger away. "I told you no guns at career day."
"That's my luger!" Rumsfeld protested.
"You'll get it back after class if you're good."
"Rarr!" Rumsfeld yelled, but Laura just kept staring back at him sternly.
"Why don't you tell the kids what they need to do if they want to be a Secretary of Defense," the teacher said.
"None of them can be Secretary of Defense; they are too weak and stupid."
"Don't say things like that," the teacher chided him, "Give them a positive message."
"Don't tell me what to do!" Rumsfeld yelled, reaching for the teacher's throat.
Laura pushed him back into his chair. "No strangling!" she yelled at him, "Not at an event I organized."
"I think the children have learned enough for today," the teacher said, "I want to thank you all for giving us your time today. Certainly pass that message on to Daschle when you see him again."
"Yeah, I'll pass him a message," Bush chuckled, hitting his fist into his palm.
"We're all going to O'Malley's after this," Buck announced to the kids, "You can meet us there, have a few beers, and I can tell you more about killing foreigners."
"Cool!" Bush exclaimed, "We'll have a game of darts."
"Just make sure to drive Donald home if he gets tipsy," Laura told Bush.
"Are you saying I can't hold my liquor, woman!" Rumsfeld demanded angrily.
"You know he's a mean drunk," Laura whispered to Bush, "So be careful."
"Hell, he's a mean sober," Bush said, "Drunk, he's a WMD."
April 29, 2003
Links of the Day
I tried out the option where I get every comment e-mailed to me, and that's way too many e-mails. I don't know how Michele handles that. Speaking of Michele, she now has started the Slutpublicans. Check it out.
Mean Mr. Mustard talks about Canada, and he's MEAN!
Andrew H. has some words about the Axis of Weasels and NATO.
On the Fritz has an article about some suspicious barrels in Iraq and the proper way to dispose of monkeys.
Finally, Steven Den Beste has a new list of links... not including me! I guess I'm too "popular" and "read" to be one of his links. Well screw him. I hate Steven Den Beste. First of all, that's the dumbest name I've ever heard. Second of all, I only link to his site because everybody else does and I don't want to look weird. Thirdly... well that's all I got.
I just really hate people who get more traffic than me. Oh, that reminds me: damn you Scrappleface!
More Mob Rule
*Link the blog: 37 votes (13%)
Won't need a recount here. Guess Silent Running will have to try again next year in a segment I'm going to call "Can Anything Beat the Non Sequitur Poll Answer that Involves Monkeys". Anyway, here is what you voted for:
Here's me getting prepared for my daily jog:
Here's me typing up my latest hilarious post:
Here's me imitating Rumsfeld again. "Rarr!":
Anyway, I keep getting all these Google hits for Jennifer Eccleston since someone just mentioned her once in my comments, and I finally saw her on Fox News. Hot damn! I think people should have a chance to be whatever you want, but you can not be that attractive and be a news reporter; there's no way I'm going to hear a word she says. Instead I was thinking she should instead do something more fitting like pose in playboy or be a lingerie model. It ends up, though, she did used to be a lingerie model. Pics here.
If I Were President: "Boo Hoo... My Speech is Being Supressed"
I know everyone and their mother has commented on this topic, but I just couldn't help putting my own two cents in because it pissed me off so much. I'm not as funny when I'm angry, but take what you get. So here is me as President, giving an address to the American people.
I know there have been a number of complaints about suppression of speech here in America. Those in opposition to the war think the harsh criticism they've received has been stifling their dissent. I have just one thing to say to this:
Shut up you whiny little bitches!
I swear to God almighty, that if I see even one of you come and complain to my face like that, I will shake you like a British nanny until He finally deems appropriate to bestow you an ounce of sense.
"Whaa! People say mean things about me. It's like we don't have any freedom anymore."
I simply lack the skill with prose to express how much you idiots disgust me. There are people in other countries who risk their own lives to speak out against oppression, and you pieces of excrement are whining about how people are criticizing you for that diarrhea of the mouth you think is political speak. Well, I can think of any better expression of freedom of speech than people making life hell for you complete and utter nitwits, either by constantly declaring loudly what jackasses you people are or boycotting whatever you are involved with.
"But that's suppressing the debate," you whine. Hey, just like you wouldn't want some KKK member's opinion on the subject of race relations, we don't need the input of assclown pacifists on the debate of foreign affairs. Your opinions are so idiotic, they erode the debate, not add to it. We are all dumber for having listened to you, and democracy is better for having you shouted down.
If some of you still don't get the point, then, next time I hear one of you retards complain about your "speech being oppressed," I'll send some thugs to murder your family, burn down your house, and then drag you out in the street cut out your tongue. Then tell me (or, I guess, sign to me) whether you can't tell the difference between that actual suppression of speech and what you thought was oppression before.
One last note: if you're a hot chick, and you're idea of fighting back is to pose naked, I'm perfectly fine with that. Everyone else, shut up for the sake of the country's sanity.
Thank you and God bless.
April 28, 2003
Links of the Day
Have added Conservatism Blog and The Catholic Samurai to the blogroll (us Catholic Samurais have to stick together). I decided what I was doing to Silent Running is too mean (I'll close up the poll results tomorrow).
I haven't linked to Andrea Harris in a while, so I'm just going to, because I like reading her blog.
BTW, if you have a post that you think is particularly good, don't be afraid of e-mailing me it. Just don't do it more than once a week or so or get too homicidal if I don't use it.
UPDATE: Looks like I have trackback working now. If you have an MT blog, link me and ping me or something... I don't how the hell it works.
In My World: El VP
"Man, it's certainly been a stressing time, Dick. I have to worry about getting a good government set up in Iraq, and then I have to fight the Democrats to get tax cuts so I can improve the economy. But they don't want the economy to improve since they’re weasels, you know what I mean, Dick?"
Bush looked to the monitor. "You're not, Dick. You're still that Mexican."
"Why are you still at the undisclosed location?"
"I do not know, senor. One day people come and say, 'We have to take you to your new location, Vice President Cheney.' And I say, "I am not this Cheney you speak of.' But still, they put a blindfold on me and take me away. Now I do not know where I am, senor."
"Sorry about that," Bush said, thinking hard, "Man, where could Dick be? If it gets out I lost the VP, you just know there is going to be more of those 'Bush is dumb' jokes."
"Si, senor. I just came up with one myself."
"Anyway, I'm going to nickname you 'the Mexican', 'ight?"
Bush thought for a while. "How would you like to be the Vice President? It pays $192,600 a year... uh... I mean three bucks an hour."
"What do I have to do?"
"Just appear to do a speech and then fake a heart attack to get out of it. Can you do that?"
"Kickass. You're a good American."
"I'm a Mexican, senor."
"Well... you're a good whatever you are."
“Shouldn’t you be looking for this Cheney you speak of?”
"Hey!" Bush said angrily, "I'm the president. I’m the idea man, ‘ight?"
Bush then saw his wife Laura enter the room. "Hey, can I ask you a question, honey?"
"If the Vice President suddenly looked more Mexican to you, how would you react?"
She just stared at Bush for a long while. Finally, she said, "Know what; I like to stay out of politics."
* * * *
"Has the Vice President been replaced with a Mexican?" asked a reporter.
"That's crazy talk," Whitehouse Press Secretary Ari Fleischer responded, "Anyone who thinks that is as crazy as Helen Thomas."
"I heard that!" Thomas yelled.
"I know you did, you old hag!" Fleischer responded.
"If he wasn't a Mexican," said another reporter, "Why did he keep referring to us reporters as 'stupid gringos'?"
"Because Vice President Cheney thought the phrase 'assclowns' was getting over used in his press conferences."
"So what was up with the poncho and sombrero?"
Fleischer looked confused. "The Vice President wasn't wearing a poncho and a sombrero."
"No, I mean Bush."
"Oh! Well, he had just watch some Westerns," Fleischer explained, "You know how Bush is. Now can we have a question about serious policy issues?"
"There have been rumors that Syria has been harboring Iraqis and their chemical weapons. Why haven't we just marched in there and killed all those mother f**kers? Is your administration a bunch of pussies?" asked a Fox News reporter.
"Hey, be fair," Fleischer said defensively, "We have to be diplomatic about things like..."
The reporter started making chicken sounds.
"That's not very professional!"
Bush and the Mexican then came running into the conference. "Hey! Me and my new best friend..." Bush noticed all the reporters. "I mean my old friend, Dick Cheney, have a great idea. We just found Daschle's car and want to overturn it. It sure is going to be fun, isn't it, Mexican?"
"When do I get to go back to Mexico? I miss my family."
"You crack me up, dude," Bush said, laughing. "So, Ari, you want to help?"
"Sure," he answered, "but I get to wear the sombrero this time."
"But it's my sombrero!" the Mexican complained.
"Learn to share, dude," Bush chided him.
"I can't wait to see Daschle's face once he finds his car overturned!" Fleischer exclaimed.
"You'll get to see it right away," Bush chuckled, "He's still in the car!"
April 27, 2003
Links of the Day
Oscar Jr., who likes to do research on different aspects of blogs (first copying my blogger age research, which is why I will eventually delink him), has compared the mention of monkeys on this site to other site revealing startling results (or not startling; I just really hadn't thought about it before).
Jared Myers tries a variation of my In My World posts on the Dixie Chicks interview. It's pretty damn funny... just not as funny as something I would write, of course.
Man, Links of the Day is starting to become Links that Mention Frank.
Here's some that don't mention me:
In case you were thinking it, it's too late now. A blog has just come out named Democracy, Whiskey, Sexy!
Laurence Simon now has new Amish Tech Support mouse pads out. But nothing will beat my Max Payne mouse pad that came free with the Max Payne computer game. That guy can jump in slow-mo while shooting people with a Beretta in each hand. Kick ass! Actually, why am I blogging? I could be playing Max Payne right now.
UPDATE: This mentions me, so I'll link it too!
Just a few things I wanted to mention:
* I'm honored to know I have a number of military readers, some stationed overseas. Just because it doesn't really come out in my parodies, I wanted to take a moment to say how proud I am to the see the job our troops have done in Afghanistan and Iraq and how they have conducted themselves. Didn't think I could be any prouder to be an American, but I'm quite happy to find myself wrong.
* Just to make it clear, I live on your feedback. I especially like comments that say which part of the post you found funny. I also wouldn't hate you forever if you told me what you didn't find funny. Just don't call me a wang.
* I've been having a desire to do some serious posts, probably inspired by Bill Whittle. I try to avoid that because, well, I'm just 23; what the f**k do I know? Still, I always have these fantasies of things I'd say if I were president and had a national platform to speak from. They aren't so much humorous as they are... well... undiplomatic. Anyway, I turn 24 soon, so maybe I'll be old enough then.
* Many people seem to be mistaken into thinking that the name of this site is LMAO instead of IMAO. I guess I should be flattered by the mistake, but it would seem pretentious of me to name the site LMAO. Whether you LYAO or not is up to you; personally, I've never LMAO'd about anything I wrote. It would be weird if I did, because sometimes these ideas strike me at work, and, if I suddenly started LMAO'ing, they'd think I was insane.
For the curious, IMAO stands for... hey, look, a squirrel! What's he got there? Is it a nut? I think it's a nut. What the hell has he got! Oh s**t, he just looked at me. I don't trust that thing. Maybe I should go out and shoot him. Then again, the neighbors might complain. I really need to invest in a silencer. I guess I could just hold an old pillow to the barrel, but then my backyard would be covered in feathers.
What was I talking about? Oh yeah, thank for reading!
No, You Eat That
I got this hate mail yesterday (edited for The Children™) from a Pat Gale:
Eat a DICK you ignorant f**k...lol Sorry to hear that you are an asshole. peace
Yes, I think children should be able to hear the word asshole.
Anyway, this confused me. First off, what is he/she (I don't know what gender because of the name "Pat", so I'll just refer to the subject as "the Mongoloid" for simplicity) was lol'ing about. Was it something I wrote, or was the Mongoloid entertained by its own statement? And who did the Mongoloid hear from that I'm an asshole? If it's one of you, please fess up to it.
Anyway, I just needed some more clarity, so I wrote back:
Please clarify your outrage so that I might be less of an ignorant f**k and an asshole in the future. Thanks, Frank J.
I'm still waiting for a response, but if anyone else has some suggestions to make me less of an ignorant f**k and an asshole, please tell me. It's from your input that this site gets even better.
Scoop of the Century
James Finch at The Yankee Herald has out done even my interviews with Rumsfeld and Condoleezza Rice and gotten himself an interview with one of the most elusive figures on the internet. I wonder how he was able to manage such a coup? Oh yeah, he e-mailed me and asked if I wanted to be interviewed.
NOTE: If the direct blogspot link isn't working, just go to the main page and look for it. It will have pictures of me.
April 26, 2003
Links of the Day
Glenn Reynolds is trying to pretend that his traffic is down because of the war and not because of my filthy lies. Yeah, like the war has an effect on anything.
It seems I am going to marry the du Toits' daughter. No one tells me anything.
Oh, and I'm going to link to the Sound and Fury because they got one of those things on the side that says who's been linking to them and I like seeing my number go up. That's right, I can do what I want!
I haven't had much of a philosophy to my blogroll. I just sort of add people randomly when it occurs to me. Then I was thinking, maybe I should be more careful about whom I add. This is really my visitors’ blogroll, because God knows I never read those people. So I should let you people decide who goes on the roll.
Well, first I have Right We Are. Let's see... they're a nice couple of ladies. I think I'll just go ahead and add them.
But then we have Silent Running. Do these people run silently and then sneaks up on people and hit them with a cudgel. And why do they have a graphic that seems to express they don't like people hugging Side-Show Bob? Side-Show Bob is a fellow Republican if you remember that one Simpsons episode with the Rush Limbaugh like guy.
I think you people should have a choice if this blog is added to my ever-expanding blogroll. So here is your vote:
POLL CLOSED: Results here.
Remember to first check the blog out before voting. The way to tell if a blog is good is to look for insightful commentary, witty humor, and plenty of links to me.
Filthy Lies Part II
It's Saturday, so once again it's time to spread filthy lies about Glenn Reynolds!
By now, everyone knows how he likes to put puppies into blenders. He was so shaken by it, that he hit me with some sort of DoS attack on Monday. But look at his traffic since this scandal came out on April 19th; that looks down from the previous week to me. It's working, but I think with another push soon he'll only get like 3 visitors a week - fellow puppy blenders. So here is the new dirty, filthy lie:
I ran into Glenn Reynolds again the other day, and you can't believe what he told me. First I just asked him, "Hey, Glenn Reynolds, how do you keep up such a great site, updating it all the time and finding all those links?"
And here is really horrible photographic evidence proving what I just made up:
So, here is the new filthy lie to spread: Glenn Reynolds is a puppy blending, Satan worshipping hobo murderer. Make sure the press knows, because I want the first line of any story about blogs to be, "The most popular blog, Instapundit.com, is run by an evil man who blends puppies and murders hobos as part of a satanic ritual. That's why more people are going to IMAO.us which is run by Frank J., a man who loves puppies, denounces Satan, and has never done anything worse to a hobo than give one a minor concussion."
So spread the lie. I can't wait to see his traffic drop like a rock now!
UPDATE: Michele of A Small Victory is sick and twisted too, but I think her readers already knew that.
April 25, 2003
Links of the Day
Bill Whittle had to remove comments to his posts because of the trolls. If I keep reading Bill, I'm going to be inspired to write a serious essay one of these days. Better stop reading Bill before I embarrass myself.
The bastard at The Yankee Herald delinked me! Why I outta... oh, he linked me again.
Adela loves Frank. Everyone should love Frank. Everyone should hate monkeys.
BTW, I keep hearing from people saying that they just heard about my blog. Why doesn't everyone know? Aren't you readers e-mailing everybody about me, and chastising any blog that doesn't have a link to me?
Between your lack of promotion and voting for the monkey, I'm starting to think of getting new readers.
IMAO: Getting in the Way of Useful Information
I found this anonymous comment on my post about suggestions for a type of government for Iraq:
your morons! I was looking for some useful information, not this crap
Apparently that post is already ranked third for "types of governments" as a google search.
My Know Thy Enemy post about the Iraqi Republican Guard used to be the number four ranked entry for a "iraqi republican guard", but now that post can't be found at all with google. Hmm... some sort of cover up?
At least this last commenter didn't call me a "wang".
Frank Discussions: Condoleezza Rice
Guess who go to sit down with Condoleezza Rice for a nice chat?
No, me, jackass.
I was like, "Hey, it's Frank J. of IMAO.us. How would you like me to interview you?"
And she was like, "Frank J.! Oh, my God; I can't believe it! I love your site! It's so much better than the site of that puppy blending monster."
Yeah, that's what happened.
No, you're a liar.
Anyway, here's the interview:
Frank: Thanks for taking the time to talk to me. Can I call you Condi?
Rice: Uh... I guess. I'm a little confused here, I thought I was going to be talking to someone from a regular news organization. What are you? Like twelve?
Frank: I'll be twenty-four in June... and I am from a regular new organization. I'm from... CNN. Yeah, I'm Wolf Blitzer. I just shaved and dyed my hair for a new look. You like it.
Rice: I'll buy that... for now. Why are the lights so dim?
Frank: I thought it would make a better mood for an interview.
Rice: Is that Barry White I hear playing?
Frank: Just a little mood music. Why don't you take a sip of your wine and relax, Condi?
Rice: Turn up the lights and turn off the music... NOW!
Frank: Okay... okay... I guess I'll get to my questions. Let's see here...
Rice: You know, it's not very professional of you to have your questions written on... what is that you have your questions written on?
Frank: They're pages from my daily Dilbert calendar. The backs of them make great scrap paper.
Heh heh... Dogbert always cracks me up.
Anyway, my first question: So, Condi, being the National Security Advisor of the President, do you advise the president on matters of security that are a national concern?
Frank: On second thought, that questions wasn't as probing and insightful as I first believed it would be. So, next question: What do you think of today's military technology?
Rice: I think we have a huge technological advantage over our enemy. I mean they're a bunch of dumb turds with second hand AK-47's, and we have laser guided missiles that can fly through space. And, with our advance accuracy, we can avoid civilian casualties.
Frank: And it is the administration’s position to not kill children?
Rice: Yes, even the stupid smelly ones. That's why we have cruise missiles that can fly miles and miles and then accurately hit a target about the size of Michael Moore.
Frank: So why is Michael Moore still around.
Rice: He runs a lot faster than you'd think.
Frank: I see. I've heard you take a great interest in continuing advances in technology for America's military.
Rice: Yes, I demand a lot from our scientists and engineers. When I ask something to be done, I don't take "I can't" or "That's not possible in either classical or quantum physics" for an answer.
Frank: So what's one of your latest creations?
Rice: For our military, we need lots of computing power for simulations. We've now created a computer that can increase its speed by stealing computing power from its doppelganger in an alternate dimension.
Frank: Then won't there be a Condoleezza Rice in an alternate dimension extremely pissed by how her computing power is being sucked away?
Rice: Screw her! Obviously I thought of this first.
Then again, if I know me, she would be plotting revenge.
Frank: One's greatest enemy is always themselves. Anyway, I sometime hear you referred to as Dr. Rice. What are you a doctor of?
Rice: I don't remember; I finished college some time ago. I'm pretty sure it's not the one where you operate on people.
Frank: So you never cut anyone open?
Rice: I didn't say that.
Frank: So let's see... what were my other questions...
Heh heh, Wally is so lazy.
Rice: I am growing impatient.
Frank: What's it like working with Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld?
Rice: His warmongering is useful to me, but he is an old man, and I am the future. I have plans way beyond his.
Frank: What plans?
Rice: Nothing for you to know about.
Frank: You don't plan on becoming some supervillianess and then take over the world, do you?
Rice: No comment.
Frank: My God, I bet you already have a hollowed out volcano.
Rice: I don't like where these questions are going.
Frank: Can I help you come up with a supervillian name? How about "Dark Raven"?
Frank: Could I at least be one of your minions?
Rice: Maybe... just stop talking about this subject.
Frank: Alright, I had just one more thing, Condi. Have you ever thought about doing something to draw more interest in your administration?
Rice: Like what do you mean?
Frank: I was thinking a swimsuit calendar. Everyone loves swimsuit calendars.
Rice: I don't think that would be appropriate.
Frank: Come one. I got some swimsuits here for you to choose from and the camera is all ready.
Rice: I'm not comfortable with this.
Frank: Don't be so shy. You have a great body... (cough) (gag)
Rice: You touched my leg!
Frank: (gag) (cough)
Rice: Don't be such a baby; I barely collapsed your throat.
Frank: Anyway (cough) thanks for giving me your time. Perhaps we can (cough) do this again sometime.
Rice: Not if I get a restraining order first.
The poll on which picture should represent Frank J. is now closed with 505 votes.
As a compromise, a reader made this which combines the top two entries. Also, Rachel Lucas said she likes Paranoid Frank, which might out rule you all. Maybe I'll redo a better picture of that later, but right now I have decided to honor the vote, and thus I have a new About Me page completely rewritten to explain why I have the head of a monkey. Hope you enjoy.
April 24, 2003
Links of the Day
I just wrote my hate mail to Michael Moore, and then found out he ruined an elementary school career day with another one of his tirades.
Rachel Lucas, the loveliest woman in the blogosphere, finds a killer even greater than guns that you won't hear Michael Moore rant about (plus she links back to me the post; can't get better than that!).
Camille has some tips for dealing with ADD. I read some of them, but then I was distracted.
A great way to support our troops.
I Am Right will never be linked by me. He has gained the permanent animosity of me, Rumsfeld, and the monkey.
Someone gave me a pretty decent size donation via Amazon.com, but didn't give me their information. Please e-mail me so I can say thanks and give you your gift.
Also, for those disturbed by the monkey in the banner, it is only temporary.
Hating Michael Moore
I liked the idea of a hate mail section, but the only problem is that I don't get that much juicy hate mail. I'm just too loveable. Plus, my In My World parodies can be a bit ambiguous of who I'm making fun of. I saw on one message board that someone linked to one as "great Rumsfeld bashing".
So, I had an idea: why don't I write a rambling hate message to someone. Michael Moore has his e-mail on his website, and everyone hates him, so I though he would be a great target.
Dear Michael Moore, I'm sure you've received plenty of incoherent, frothing at the mouth hate mail before, but I promise this to be the most hatingness hate mail of all. You probably can't tell this from reading it, but it took me an hour to write that first line. That's because I kept glancing at your webpage and exclaiming, "Grah! Do I hate Michael Moore!" I even stared at your face with pure hatred for so long that the screensaver kicked in, you know, the one with floating thing that changes from like a box to a flower shape. It's pretty hypnotic, and then I ended up staring at that for a while. Finally, I accidentally kicked my desk, causing the mouse to move, and thus the screensaver ended. So there you were again, and I was like, "Ahh! Michael Moore! I hate him!" Finally, though, I closed your webpage so I could focus better, so here I am.
That should make him know how stupid and useless he is. He'll probably start crying.
Then again, that wasn't very Christian of me. I feel bad now. I'll just have to keep in mind how fat and ugly he is and that he deserves it.
April 23, 2003
Links of the Day
Neocons killed Jesus! John Hawkins has a little something to say about the hidden meaning behind the phrase "neoconservative".
Acidman doesn't understand a lot of things, and seems smarter for it.
A Vast Right Wing Conspiracy has turned against Rachel Lucas!
I crashed Inoperable Terran with my Jennifer Aniston gag in the last Links of the Day. I feel my power growing.
There are a lot of friends of IMAO that I don't have a permalink to yet, so don't be afraid to e-mail me to get on the list. Maybe I'll have you fight it out in a poll, though.
Also, tomorrow I have something brand new I'm going to try. Hope you like it.
Of Mice and Monkeys
I don't know how much longer I should keep the poll going; Agent Monkey-for-a-Head has nearly a third of all the votes. You know, I have the IP addresses of everyone who voted for him; I could ban you all. But I won't. I guess I'll have to start rewriting my About Me page to explain why I have a monkey head.
I guess holding a digital camera at arm's length isn't the best way to take a photograph (who knew?). Maybe later I can have some more professional photos taken - maybe by my know-it-all sister - and do another vote later.
I also learned that if you give people a monkey to vote for, they're going to vote for the monkey. You see, that's why I hate monkeys
Anyway, polling was fun and I think I'll do some more polls in the future.
Just to be clear, I'm joking about all the money stuff. I'm not quite ready to try and make my site a revenue source like Bill Quick. All I want is to recoup my server costs ($11 a month) and any extra money will go back into the site, maybe paying someone to give me a more professional design. I've always wanted a logo, too; my thoughts are of a dolphin leaping majestically out of the water, and then, at the peak of its jump, it's struck by lightning.
I hate dolphins, too.
I am serious about the t-shirt idea. I think a "Nuke the Moon" t-shirt idea is pretty cool and will just have to settle on a design.
Anyway, thanks a bundle to those who have donated so far, but I want to say I'm thankful for all my readers, donors or not, and especially for those who didn't vote for the monkey.
UPDATE: If you're going to donate through Amazon, please don't do it anonymously. I came up with a little little something I want to give to my donors as a thank you. For those who have already donated, I'll be sending it out tonight.
In My World: Rumsfeld Seemed Unhappy About Letting Inspectors Back in Iraq, Though No Statement Was Given
"The destruction may seems to have ceased now, but do not be fooled. This is just the eye of the storm, and soon the true carnage begins as we unleash our fury once more on the enemy, hunting them down and painting their wretched cities red with their blood."
"So are you saying you have further plans for military action?" asked a reporter.
"Yes, you fool!" Rumsfeld shouted, "Your stupidity only increases my rage, rage which I will take out upon the children of lesser countries in your name."
"What about setting up a new government in Iraq?"
"Nuke them! Let their new government be airborne ash. No mercy for our enemies!"
"Is that the current position of the administration?"
"I care not for their opinion!" Rumsfeld yelled, "Especially not of that whiny liberal Colin Powell." He then said in a mock high pitch voice, "'You can't just indiscriminately kill everyone, Rumsfeld.'"
"Aren't you afraid that this preemptive strike against Iraq has set a bad precedent?"
"No, it's a good precedent. Now countries know that if we find them a threat that we will attack them."
"And what countries do you find to be a threat?"
"Countries that are foreign."
"But wait a second," a reporter said snidely, "won't..."
The reporter was cut short by the sound of Rumsfeld's luger firing. "See, I knew his question was going to be asinine, so I shot him for it. Preemptive strike."
"What do you think about the U.N. and Han Blix's insistence that weapons inspectors be let back in Iraq?" asked a non-shot reporter.
Rumsfeld was just silent for a moment. Then his body started to shake as if the rage inside him was trying to escape in a huge explosion of carnage. Finally, he screamed "Rarr!" and the reporters fled as he charged forward.
* * * *
"Goody goody!" Blix exclaimed, "I hope we can get the weapons inspectors back in Iraq and then I can eat more chocolates."
"But what shall we do with the insolent Americans?" Kofi Anan asked. "I think we should ask the opinions of nations run by tyrannical dictators."
"Kill the jews!" one diplomat shouted.
"That's six votes for 'kill the jews'," Kofi said proudly, "I think we're going to have a consensus!"
Suddenly a sound of "Rarr!" was heard as two U.N. security guards went flying through the air.
"Oh no!" Blix shrieked in terror, "It's Rumsfeld."
"Do as we all practiced and hide under your desks," Kofi shouted.
Rumsfeld scanned the seemingly empty room, sniffing the air. "I know you're here," he said, "I can smell your fear." Then, with each swing of his arm, he knocked a table out of the way.
Colin Powell came running in the room. "I'm glad I found you," he said, "You forgot to take your pills to prevent your murderous rage."
"This isn't murderous rage!" Rumsfeld insisted, "It's murderous clarity!"
Powell handed him his pills, and Rumsfeld grudgingly took them.
"Murderousness subsiding," Rumsfeld uttered, "Now all I want to do is severely beat everyone here."
He then spotted Blix and Kofi trying to escape. "Don't hurt us!" they pleaded.
"No!" Rumsfeld slammed their heads together.
"See," Powell said proudly, "Can't we all be much happier after compromise?"
"I'm still planning to strangle you later," Rumsfeld answered.
"Yeah... well... I'll meet you back in D.C.," Powell said, running off.
April 22, 2003
Links of the Day
I'd like to thank Geoffrey Allen of Dog Snot Diaries for telling me where I could make a poll.
Who likes debating homosexuality? Not me, but the Emperor brought up gays in the military with debate ensuing, and Bill Quick thinks Sen. Santorum is a nutbag for what he said about homosexuality. I met Sen. Santorum (I was at his victory party when we were watching the results for the 2000 presidential election not happen), and he didn't seem nutty. Then again, what do I know? People think I should have a monkey head.
Glenn Reynolds points out how Day by Day and Scrappleface were mentioned in an article about war humor. Congratulations, Day by Day, and damn you, Scrappleface. But why wasn't I mentioned? Probably Glenn Reynolds doing. Damn you, you evil puppy blender.
I don't usually link to stuff like this, but man are these some hot photos of Jennifer Aniston.
Money! Money! Monkey!
Okay, people. I don't think you're taking this vote seriously. This is supposed to be a picture to represent your beloved Frank J., and so far the leader in votes is Agent Monkey-for-a-Head. Rather than a picture of me, people want a monkey; what a hit to my self-esteem. Makes me want to make sucidally-depressed Frank the official picture. The first four, which were meant to be the non-joke pictures, currently have a total of 14 votes out of 248, with picture number one (smirking Frank) in the lead of those four with 6 votes. I voted for number three, and so far only one other person agreed with me. Anyway, after monkey face, matrix Frank and homicidal rage Frank are in a close battle for second. Maybe I'll have a runoff vote...
I knew putting up donation buttons would change my whole view of this webpage. Now I look on all you non-donators as vile moochers of my genius. Well, maybe instead I can offer something extra to people who donate, like an exclusive In My World post only for donors. Right now all they get is a thank you note with my actual name (Ooh... mysterious! And mildly hard to figure out.)
Or maybe I can sell my integrity, like Bill Clinton selling Whitehouse access for donations. Links of the day will be up for sale to whomever pays me. Considering how much they give me is how good the link will be (I think I have a good understanding now of how to generate traffic for others ;) For non-bloggers, donors can be put in an In My World post. Small donations and you're just the name of one of the random reporters. Larger donations can have you killed by Rumsfeld, and with even larger donations you can be the next victim of the Rumsfeld Strangler™. For a huge donation, you can be Condoleezza Rice's love interest in an epic In My World where you team up with Rumsfeld to fight Cyber-Lenin and his legion of hippies.
The other idea is extortion. I could write the funniest In My World ever - one with the angriest, reporter-killingest Rumsfeld yet - and then I'll threaten to use PGP wipe on it to destroy it forever unless a certain amount of money is placed in my paypal account by a specified date. I would also drink vodka until it was erased from my own memory. Actually, I'll probably drink the vodka whether I got the money or not.
Maybe best ways to trick people into giving me money can be the next vote.
In my opinion, the best t-shirt suggestion so far is one for a "Nuke the Moon" themed t-shirt. The only problem is how do I condense the intense philosophical implications of that essay into something that can fit on a t-shirt. Any ideas would be appreciated.
Also, apparently I confused people by posting two things at once in the morning. I had a normal humor post today - pure gold as usual - and it's absolutely free... for now.
Behold My Glory!
Now you get to choose what will be the official photo of me, the beloved Frank J., to go on my About Me page. All shots were taken with a digital camera held at arms length... unless they obviously weren't. And I just now noticed that my left eye tends to be slightly more closed than the right; what's up with that?
Anyhoo, here are the choices:
Photo #1: Here I am as normal, with a slight smirk. Yeah, I know I'm better than you.
Photo #2: Here I am more serious looking. Yes, I'm a humorous guy, but you'll never know how deep and philosophical my thoughts are.
Photo #3: Here I am smiling. I'm a happy, funny guy. Everyone loves Frank.
Photo #4: Here I am staring into the unknown, my thoughts distant and mysterious. Or maybe my ADD kicked in while I was taking that shot.
Photo #5: I was thinking my readers might want a picture that has more character, so here is suicidally depressed Frank. "Everyone just laughs at me!" Whoops! Looks like some forgot to take his pills.
Photo #6: Now the pills have kicked in. Here's psycho happy Frank!
Photo #7: Here's paranoid Frank. Why would people want a picture of me? For what purpose?
Photo #8: And here I am with homicidal rage like my hero, Donald Rumsfeld.
Photo #9: And here is what The Matrix would look like if I starred in it. Don't I look dangerous with those silenced Skorpions (or "Klobbs" for aficionados of the N64 game Goldeneye)?
Photo #10: And here is what The Matrix would look like if Agent Smith had the head of a monkey... but now I think we've strayed off topic.
Carefully make your selection. You only get to vote once, and no revotes if you accidentally vote for Buchanan. Polling will be open for the rest of the week, or until I arbitrarily decide to end it. Poll results can also be ignored if I don't like them. You see, it's like a democracy, but better, because I get the final say.
Poll has closed. See results here.
With All the Different Types of Governments to Choose From, How Can You Go Wrong?
So now the question is what kind of government should we, the benevolent U.S., establish in Iraq. Before they had a dictator, which made them a dictocracy. Most people want to now establish a democracy, but that doesn't just magically make a good government like some people think. What if the people voting are all jackasses and they elect crack mayors like in D.C.? So here are some other government suggestions.
Republic: This is where Republicans rule the government. This is the one we have and the best of the imperfect governments.
Monarchy: A monarchy is a government ruled by a monarch. According to my dictionary, a monarch is a type of butterfly. This government probably occurs in Europe where people are pansies and might be scared of butterflies. Come on; it's just a butterfly! Bloody coup!
Feudal System: This is a system that involves a lot of arguments, or "Feuding". I think it's stupid, but others may violently disagree, and then we'd have a feudal system.
Autocracy: This is a government ruled by intelligent automobiles. It is the current government of Japan.
Plutocracy: This is a government ruled by Mickey Mouse's dog, Pluto, who is tough but fair. Contrary to popular belief, it has nothing to do with the planet Pluto, which I tell you is one day going to collide into Neptune. Yeah, the scientist say that ain't gonna happen, but I don't believe them. For God's sake, stay off of Pluto!
Ninjatocracy: This is a government that involves a lot of flipping around and cutting people's heads off. It's totally sweet.
Smurfaucracy: This is a form a government where one Iraqi would be the leader and named "Papa Iraqi" and everyone else would get names based on their personalities, like "Brainy Iraqi", "Brawny Iraqi", "Greedy Iraqi", and "Perverted Iraqi." One woman would be named "Iraqette." I'm not sure what would happen to the other women. Also, Iraq and Iraqi would become a universal words that could mean anything - adjective, verb, or noun - just like the f-word but not vulgar. Plus, I think everyone would have to live in mushroom houses. In the one instance this government was practiced, everyone looked happy, but you could sense a deep sadness behind their eyes that told you that everything was not quite so Iraqi.
Popadopalocracy: This is a form of a government that... okay I made this one up.
Chiracracy: Rule comes from a cowardly weasel. Popular in Old Europe.
Benevolent Dictator: This is the theoretical perfect form of government, where one all-knowing and all-caring individual would rule the country… so this is like if I ruled Iraq. But I have a fulltime job and this blog to keep up, so rule your own damn country.
April 21, 2003
Links of the Day
Wow, I had like at least a 400% increase in traffic today. I think it’s do to the inclusion of the unnamed Mexican to my In My World post today. Don't worry; you'll see him again.
In a completely unrelated subject, Glenn Reynolds lamely denied my filthy lies, despite mounting made up evidence. He then hit me with some sort of denial of service attack to my visitor counter, because I was unable to see who was linking to me today, since, for some reason it said every referrer was instapundit.com. Well, I'll get him back with even more filthy lies and even worse photoshopped evidence this weekend.
I've just added Cold Fury to my blogroll. Other people seemed to link to him, and I thought I better do it to so people think I'm cool.
I've also added The Yankee Herald to my blogroll. He ripped off my interview idea right after I did it, so, just like with Oscar Jr., I'm only adding him to my blogroll so I can later do the ultimate insult of blogdom - a delinking! No blogger can stand the insult of being delinked. Michele's blog had been nothing but incoherent babble since someone once delinked her.
Fisking Michael Moore is like shooting the broadside of a barn... but with a larger target. Frank of Zogby blog takes aim.
I mentioned On the Fritz yesterday, but I’m doing it again today. I don't know how many visitors his blog is getting, but it's not as many as he deserves. He really is like a daily Onion with funny pictures to go along with the articles as well. I know a lots of these has been going around, but check out the phony Eminem obit. I especially like the sequence in the lower left corner.
Oh, and for no particular reason, I want to say that Loretta is cool. Go to her site.
I was given money, so, as promised, the big event is tomorrow. You will get to choose what will be the official picture of Frank J. to go into the About Me section from a selection of ten pictures. Please alert the media to this ground-breaking event.
Oh, and give me more money.
Money! Money! Money!
I new this would happen. I put up a Paypal donation button and now all I can think about are ways of tricking people to give me money. I was thinking maybe I could have one of those PBS fund drives:
"Without your support, we won't be able to provide you with quality postings like 'In My World' and investigative reports such as 'Know They Enemy'."
And then I would promise people tote bags... but wouldn't deliver. Muh ha ha ha!
Someone mentioned having a t-shirt to sell. Does anyone have any good design ideas or any good phrases I've used in the past that would go good on a t-shirt?
Now, I'm usually curious about my fellow bloggers, but most don't put out much information about themselves. Maybe I could do that in exchange for money. Here I go:
"Now, I was afraid of putting out a picture of me before since I didn't want all the female readers getting lost in my hypnotic blue eyes, but I've finally held out a digital camera at arms length and snapped a few shots of my self. I was thinking then people could vote on which should be the picture of yours truly to go into the About Me section. I'm having trouble accessing comments today, so they only way to communicate if you like the idea is to give me money."
Oh, if someone knows an easy way to set up a poll, that can be put in the comments (or e-mailed to me).
In My World: Bush Plans to Use Blasphemy Instead of War
"Just wait a sec, Condi," Bush said as leaned out the window, waiting for the right moment. Finally, he released the water balloon. "Got him!"
"You got me all wet!" Senator Tom Daschle whined.
"Ha ha!" Bush laughed, "So what are you going to do about it?"
"I'm telling the press!" Daschle yelled.
Bush slammed the window shut. "Crybaby." He then turned to Condoleezza Rice. "If the press comes asking about this, I was here with you."
"You are with me!" Rice said impatiently.
"Good, you know how to play the game," he answered smugly as he took a seat. "What's on your mind?"
"I wanted to talk about more of our military strategy."
"Again!" Bush exclaimed, "But I wanted to watch T.V. now. You keep working me like this and I'm going to have to complain to my union boss."
"There is no presidents' union!" Rice answered irately.
Bush looked confused. "But Ariel Sharon keeps taking my dues each week..." A thought then struck him, and his expression turned to anger. "That Jew bastard! If he just wanted more money to bulldoze Palestinian homes, he could have just asked. I hate those Palestinians, always blowing themselves up. Why don't they just kill themselves?"
Rice had a number of things she wanted to say in response, but she decided to let it go. "We need to talk about Syria."
"Why can't we just talk about Iraq?" Bush complained, "We kicked ass there. I thought for a moment there was going to be trouble, but then 'zip' 'bang' 'pow', we took Baghdad. Now I just have to set up a new government there chock full of democracy, and people will be like, 'Hey, Bush, you're the best president ever!' and I'll be like, 'Yes I am. Now get me a soda, bitch!'"
"But we have to move on the popularity of the Iraqi war to go onto other wars," Rice told him, "And the troops have about run out of people to kill; they're getting restless."
"I thought we were just going to use diplomacy and scare Syria, though."
"A relentless barrage of bombs and ground troops is scary," Rice assured him.
"I dunno. I'm gonna ask Dick." He turned on the monitor with the satellite connection to Cheney's undisclosed location. "You there?"
Bush stared at the man on screen for a moment and then turned to Rice. "Did we replace Dick with a Mexican?"
"I don't believe so."
Bush looked to the Mexican. "What are you doing there?"
"I see this place here, and there was food and a T.V. So I sit down to watch T.V. but instead see American president."
"Is the Vice President around there?"
"I know not of this Vice President, senor."
"He's has white hair, is balding, tends to have heart attacks, and answers to the name of Dick."
"I would certainly have noticed such a gringo if he were here, senor."
"Alrighty, then. Well, you stay put in case we have to kill you as part of some cover-up."
Bush turned off the monitor. "Dick Cheney is loose!" he exclaimed, "He could kill millions!"
Rice just stared at him.
"Sorry, I forgot why we locked him away in the first place," Bush admitted sheepishly.
"Let's just get to my war plans," Rice demanded, "We attack Syria, then we go on to Jordan. Next, we skip over Saudi Arabia saying, "Oh, you're our friends, Saudi Arabia; we won't attack you," and then we attack Yemen. Now, when Saudi Arabia least expects it, POW! We hit them too."
Laura Bush then came in the room. "George! You're not letting that harlot talk you into more war again, are you?"
"Excuse me, Mrs. Bush," Rice said politely, "We have important matters of national security to talk about. Aren't there some books you need to order into the Dewey Decimal system?"
Laura just stared back angrily. "I have a mind to give you a good talking to one of these days," she threatened.
"Hey, let's not fight," Bush urged, "I have a great idea that doesn't involve any war. The problem with lots of those countries is that some people interpret the Koran to mean violence is okay. So let's steal their Korans and rewrite them!"
"I don't think that will work, sir," Rice said.
"It will. We'll just steal them the same as I stole Tom Daschle's Koran."
"That's the antenna to his car, dear," Laura told him.
"Whatever; same principle. We just take the Korans, put in bold letters, 'Don't kill people... especially Americans,' and there will be no more interpretations that violence is allowed. It's a great idea!"
* * * *
"Hello, Mr. Muslim," Tom Daschle said, opening his front door, "How can I help you."
"I'm fulfilling my religious obligation," the man said and then kicked Daschle in the groin.
"That bastard rewrote the Koran again!" Daschle wheezed, "I'll get him... and his little tax cuts too."
April 20, 2003
Je Déteste Francois
Another great post for Easter: a new entry into my hate mail section. A little while back I wrote a song for non Americans to sing to praise America. I also asked for news suggestions for verses, and got a lot of great responses. But now I found this:
Je naim pas america c'est tres coruptable les anglais et americans c'est merde? agree? OUI!
I had trouble translating it in babel fish, so I gave it to the official translator for IMAO, Mary Lou, who is much smarter and much prettier than babel fish. Ends up there was some misspellings, but here is what was probably meant to be said:
I do not like America It is very corruptible The English and Americans Are sh*t. Agree? Yes?
Okay, first of all, there was no rhyming scheme. That's just sad. And does the author, Jaques, mean to apply that France, with its oil and weapons contracts with Iraq and its businesses that couldn't succeed without government funded espionage, is the pillar of honest government?
Well, I think France has the potential to be a very non-corruptible country, since radioactive dust accepts no bribes.
Links of the Day
In the spirit of Easter, I want to get back to help spreading some traffic to those who deserve it.
Check out On the Fritz, a well designed humor website that makes mine look like crap in comparison. No, wait, don't check it out. I don't need another arch-nemesis like Scrappleface.
For even more humor and insight, check out The Mudville Gazette. Ahh! I can't take the competition.
Judicious Asinity has moved. Don't know the blog? Then check it out.
Oh, also in the spirit of Easter, I added photographic evidence to my filthy lie.
Oh, and give me money.
UPDATE: Actually, On the Fritz found a website that makes all other websites look like crap.
It's Easter, and I just wanted to say that Jesus kicks ass. I don't usually talk about religious topics, but, hey, Jesus rose from the dead; what did you do? I know a lot of people have conflicting opinions on religion, but I've never heard anyone actually to argue with the teachings with Jesus.
"'Love thy neighbor'?! That's so much crap! You should hate your neighbor! I hate mine... and his dog that won't shut up."
Anyway, my faith has helped me through some hard times, and I just wanted to give a shout out to the Savior. Also, isn't it nice to think that at one time, in one place in the world, one person was here who actually knew what the hell was going on?
April 19, 2003
I Love Frank
By popular request, you can now give me money. If I can defray the cost of the server space, I'll be happy. Any extra money will go towards the fight against puppy blending.
If you have any ideas to make this site better, especially ones that involve me getting money, don't be afraid to tell me.
It's Fun to Be Spiteful
It's Saturday! That means it's time to spread filthy lies about Glenn Reynolds.
I guess I should just be happy he gave me a permalink a while back that brings in a decent amount of traffic each day, but no, I'm too spiteful for that. He hasn't linked to me on his front page in months and months, and, as I watch him get more visitors each day than I get in a month, my anger grows. Now I've gotten a plan: If I spread filthy lies about him, people will stop going to his site and have no choice but to only go to mine! It's a brilliant idea. So here is the first filthy lie:
Hey, everyone! It's Frank J. I hope you're having a good weekend, but I have to tell you about this horrible thing I found out. See, I ran into Glenn Reynolds today and he was drinking what looked like some sort of smoothie. So I asked him, "Hey, Glenn Reynolds, what are you drinking?"
And here is poorly photoshopped photographic evidence:
So there is the filthy lie: Glenn Reynolds puts puppies in blenders. Start spreading it to everyone. Tell your parents, tell your siblings, tell your uncle in Clevland, and send an e-mail to your congressman. And, when they exclaim, "Glenn Reynolds puts puppies in blenders! I'll never go to his site again!" You tell them, "Then go to IMAO.us. Frank J. is at the forefront in the fight against putting puppies in blenders."
Wow, that was fun. I'll revisit this again next week to see how much his traffic has gone down from the spread of the lie.
April 18, 2003
I Hate Frank
Due to popular demand (three people so far) I now have a hate mail category. It's expansion will be dependent on people hating me and e-mailing me so that I can respond to their jabbering in a witty and dismissive manner. If you have any ideas for new categories, please tell me.
Also, please comment on the interview I posted today. I plan on making it a regular Friday feature as Friday is when I usually have the worst writers block and I already have a million ideas for interviews. I'm working on getting a one on one with Condoleezza Rice for next week.
Frank Discussions: Donald Rumsfeld
It not always easy to get in contact with the Secretary of Defense - especially while a war is going on - but I made a few phone calls, explained to some people, "Hey, I'm Frank J., my website gets nearly 2,000 visitors on a weekday; you can't just brush me off!" and soon I was set up for a phone interview with Donald Rumsfeld himself.
Frank: Thanks for taking the time to talk to me. I'm a big fan and...
Rumsfeld: Just get to your damn questions! I have wars to plan, you know. There are tons of evil foreigners out there who are not dead, and that has to end.
Frank: I agree with that. Anyway, can I call you Rummy?
Rumsfeld: Only if you're tired of life.
Frank: I understand. So what evil foreigners should be killed next?
Rumsfeld: I say the Syrians. We're right there, so let's just drive over there and kill them too.
Frank: What about setting up a stable Iraqi government?
Rumsfeld: Screw it!
Frank: Then might there end up being more trouble Iraq and thus cause for further war?
Rumsfeld: Good, more war.
Frank: Cool. War makes great T.V. So, any other plans after Syria?
Rumsfeld: I dunno; I forget which countries are next to Syria.
Frank: I don't know either; it's probably on a map somewhere.
Rumsfeld: Anyway, it'll be some other evil dictator who will die horribly.
Frank: Now, one thing I noticed was that when American troops went into cities, Iraqi children were cheering them on. Why weren't they killed too?
Rumsfeld: I don't know. Some people like children so we weren't supposed to use munitions.
Frank: Frankly, I wasn't very impressed by the Iraqi children; they didn't seem very cute and didn't look very trustworthy. Just my opinion.
Rumsfeld: No one cares of your opinion. Next question.
Frank: Okay, so what do you...
Rumsfeld: Hold on a second. (sounds of scuffle)
Frank: You still there?
Rumsfeld: Yes, I just had to strangle someone with the phone cord.
Rumsfeld: You don't know him. What's your next question?
Frank: So what do you think about France and that asshole Chirac?
Rumsfeld: France will be destroyed. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow... but probably tomorrow. Chirac will then be drawn and quartered, each of his pieces being placed at the four corners of the world as a warning to others.
Frank: Is everyone in the administration on board with that? I would think Colin Powell would be all like, "That's too harsh."
Rumsfeld: Do not mention that name. (sound of vomiting) There, I vomited in disgust; you owe me lunch.
Frank: Sorry. So what about Schroeder.
Rumsfeld: Hundreds of years from now, children will cry at the mention of his name. When people are asked to list the biggest atrocities that had occurred in Germany, they will say the Holocaust closely followed by what Donald Rumsfeld did to Schroeder.
Frank: Man, sounds cool. I can't wait for that ass to get his. Anyhoo, I wanted to ask you some general questions about the military. After the incident with Jessica Lynch, there has been some more questions about women in combat, how do you stand on that?
Rumsfeld: My views are pretty old fashioned, but I have to say that Pfc. Lynch acted like a real American soldier. She wasn't captured until she was out of ammo. I probably would have then continued fighting, trying to beat the enemy to death with my canteen, but that's just me.
Frank: What about gays in the military?
Rumsfeld: Here's my problem, people keep suggesting these ideas for changing the military, but they never ask the pertinent question: How does this help us kill more people? I don't see how gays in the military does that. Now, back in my day, gays were a bit different. They were manly men who cared little for fashion or showtunes, and only had sex with women. I don't know where the gay movement eventually changed its course, but I don't like it.
On the other hand, it's a really hard thing for me to look someone in the eye and say, "No, you can't kill anyone."
Frank: Things sound different back when you were younger. Do you think the culture you were raised in affect the man you are today?
Rumsfeld: Yes, we weren't little pansies like you people now. Today kids will go to summer camp. Back when I was young, I spent my summers running for my life from the Comanches... or was it the Apaches; I can't remember. Whoever they were, they wanted to scalp me but I was too quick and wily for them.
Frank: Well, my childhood wasn't that cushy. I remember this one time I was chased by a large dog... or wait, I think he was chained up and I just thought he was chasing me.
Rumsfeld: Shut up! You are wasting my time. I will kill you if you waste my time.
Frank: Geez. I'll just get to my next question. I was wondering about your gun choice: a 9mm luger.
Rumsfeld: My luger was my first handgun, and holds a special place in my heart. If I ever have to really take care of business though, I have a twin pair of .45's. You know the old saying, "You can't kill a Commie with a metric caliber."
Frank: Yeah, my dad always said that.
Rumsfeld: So what kind of gun do you carry, punk.
Frank: Well I have this nice little .380 - a Walther PPK like Bond.
Rumsfeld: A .380? So what that's going to do to your assailant? Tickle him to death?
Frank: Hey! It's a decent caliber.
Rumsfeld: If you're a little girl.
Frank: Man, you're just as mean and crazy as they say.
Rumsfeld: Who says?
Frank: I dunno... they.
Rumsfeld: Then they will die!
Frank: Fine. Well... oh, crap!
Frank: I dropped my index cards. All my questions were on those.
Rumsfeld: You are wasting my time.
Frank: Just give me a sec.
Rumsfeld: As more of my time is wasted, my rage becomes more murderous.
Frank: Okay, I got them now. Uh... a shovel, duct tape, lye, fritos...
Rumsfeld: What are you babbling about?
Frank: Sorry, that's my shopping list for Wal-Mart.
Rumsfeld: Give me a question or I will hunt you down and murder you!
Frank: Come on, Frank, you've seen people give interviews before; what kind of questions do they ask...
Oh yeah… Rumsfeld, if you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?
Rumsfeld: Is there a tree that kills people?
Frank: I once heard of this guy getting crushed by a fallen pine.
Rumsfeld: Then I would be that tree. For, even as a tree, I would thirst for blood.
Frank: Uh... another question... another question...
Oh, I got one. Did you see the Simpsons Sunday?
Rumsfeld: You're an idiot. I will kill whoever set me up to do this interview with you. And I will do it publicly as an example to others.
Frank: Now I remember what I wanted to ask you about: what's it like working with Condoleezza Rice?
Rumsfeld: She is quite good at her work, but I get this feeling she thinks she's smarter than me. I watch my back with her.
Frank: No, man, I meant like what's it like working with someone that hot. Do you ever go like, "Hey, Condi, could you get me those maps of Iraq... no, I mean the ones from the bottom shelf."
Rumsfeld: You impudent little...
Frank: Hey! You're the impotent one, old man!
Rumsfeld: Not impotent... impudent. Impudent.
Are you still there?
Frank: Hang on a minute; I'm getting my dictionary.
"marked by contemptuous or cocky boldness or disregard of others"
I guess I am pretty impudent.
Rumsfeld: Also look up "jackass" while you're at it.
Frank: Before you I let you go, I wanted to tell you about how I wrote this great war plan I want you to see...
Rumsfeld: We don't take unsolicited war plans. You need to get an agent first and have him contact us.
Frank: Come on; it's really good. It's got this great build up, full of action, and then there's this surprise attack at the end you'll never see coming!
Rumsfeld: This interview is over.
Frank: Fine. Thanks for your time, Secretary Rumsfeld. Perhaps we can do this again sometime.
Rumsfeld: I will kill you first!
April 17, 2003
Links of the Day
There is another Carnival of the Vanities, but I didn't get a post in because no one reminded me over the weekend. Thus I'm going to be spiteful and not link to it.
Alice Bachini names me as one of her favorite blogs (and I certainly can't disagree with the other three she lists), calling me the "Funny guy of the Blogosphere". This means she is very smart and sexy and that everyone should visit her site. Yes, if you lavish me with praise, it makes it more likely for me to link to you. So sue me.
A nice little story about NASCAR fans, Fox, e-mail spamming, and jail.
Speaking of John Hawkins, he once again goes out of his way to make the rest of us bloggers look bad by doing some actual journalism and getting an interview with David Horowitz. Stupid John Hawkins.
Then again, how can he prove he actually talked to David Horowitz? Hmm, that gives me an idea...
Wow, that makes four posts in one day. That's like a record for me.
Not Just Hate Mail... But a Threat!
I'm not sure what post set it off, but I just got this e-mail from henk nak (edited to make it clean enough for primetime):
I hope you will be f--ked in your tiny little a** with the biggest cactus on the face of the earth.
I try to be a courteous blogger, so I try to respond to anyone who takes the effort to e-mail me:
Hello Henk Nak! Thanks for the input. I'm not sure how that whole thing with the cactus might actually happen, but it doesn't sound unpleasant, so I think I'll have to disagree with you on that issue.
Keep the mail coming!
UPDATE: Apparently he used someone else's e-mail who was from Holland, so the response was wasted. Oh well.
Frank Solutions for Post-Bellum Depression
After the high of the war and seeing our troops kick-ass as only Americans can thus showing the world once again why there is no badder mother fu--ker than the U.S. of A., you're probably now feeling a bit down and under whelmed since the main fight is over. You're stressed out with worry that it will be a long time until you see another war, and that you're news coverage will be filled with fluff stories on rescuing kittens from drain pipes instead of more cool pictures of buildings exploding. Especially hard hit are our service men and women, who have to go back to their old lives of not killing evil people. My own brother, a Marine who didn't get to participate in Operation Wacky Iraqi Attacky, is left wondering if he'll ever get a chance to kill evil foreigners. All these down feelings are what is referred to as Post-Bellum depression.
Now, I took a number of Pysch classed while in college, so I feel qualified to give some solutions to alleviate Post-Bellum depression. I hope you find them helpful.
WAYS TO FIGHT POST-BELLUM DEPRESSION
* First off, remember that there is a lot of evil and oppression in the world and there always will be. That means there is always someone we'll need to fight eventually.
* Playing first person shooter games online can be a way to get that feeling of war back... unless you suck at them because then you'll just frustrate yourself more. Oh, and don't be a gay camper; that just pisses me off.
* A trip to the zoo can take your mind off things, as it is both fun and educational. Plus, there are monkeys there; monkeys are funny.
* Eat a corndog. No one can be depressed if they have a corndog.
* Going to a firing range or going out into the desert to plink things is a great way to get the adrenaline running again. If you don't have a firearm, then you're a pussy; go buy a firearm.
* Drink heavily. Drinking heavily is the number one way to fight depression... or maybe it makes it worse. What the hell do I know.
* Commit suicide. A lot of people who are depressed commit suicide. It doesn't seem like a good idea to me, but maybe those people know something I don't.
* Fight ninjas. A good ninja fight is a great substitute for a war. Just watch out for those ninja throwing stars; sometimes they're poisoned. Ouch!
* Take drugs. Drugs make you happy. Yay drugs.
* Beat up a hippy. There is never a reason not to beat up a hippy, so knock yourself out (that’s just an expression; it's the hippy you're actually supposed to knock out).
* Knit something. Knitting a scarf or a sweater is a great calming activity... Shut up! You're the one's that's gay.
* Write a humorous list about something. Writing a humorous list is so much easier than trying to put together a coherent post about a single subject. It's just coming up with the topic that's a bitch.
April 16, 2003
In My World: The Press is Getting Bored of Seeing Daschle Mauled by a Gorilla Every Year
"So is there any chance this war could expand out to Syria?"
"I'm not telling you guys," White House Press Secretary Fleischer scoffed, "Stop asking me questions, "
"But this is a press conference!" exclaimed the reporter.
"Whatever." Fleischer took a swig of his bottle of tequila.
"What about reports that the U.S. will be meeting with North Korea in China?" asked another reporter.
"No one way we're going there, dude," Fleisher excalimed, "There's SARS there. Actually, that the administrations position: let SARS take care of them."
"Is there any information you can give us on the new government you'll be setting up in Iraq?"
"Yes. We'll be organizing it similar to feudal Japan, with different Iraqis selected to be Samurai lords."
"You just made that up!" a reporter accused.
"Prove it," Fleischer challenged, taking another drink of tequila.
"Why aren't you giving us actual answers to our questions?"
"Because you're ugly and stupid; there's an actual answer to your question."
"Do you have any comment on progress towards catching the Rumsfeld Strangler?" asked another reporter.
Fleischer laughed. "The Rumsfeld strangler is just an invention of the liberal media."
"Many believe otherwise. Some say the murderer is someone from your administration."
"Secretary of Labor Elaine Chao."
"That's ridiculous; she's barely ever strangled anyone."
"Hey! Another reporter has been strangled!" someone shouted at the back.
"Rumsfeld, did you see anything?" Fleischer asked.
"Why would I have seen anything?" Rumsfeld responded angrily as he stood next to the body. "I don't have time for this; I have wars to plan." He then sauntered off.
"Probably just strangled himself," Fleischer assured the press.
"Do you have anything else to tell us today?" asked a reporter.
Fleischer looked at his empty bottle of tequila. "Yes, I need help getting the worm out of the bottle." He then broke the bottle over the reporter’s head.
"You're the meanest, drunkenest press secretary ever!" the reporter cried, running away.
"I have a question. What would you say is the better quality of the president: his fierce intellect or his quality leadership?" asked President Bush, poorly disguised in a gorilla costume.
"What are you doing here?"
"Trying to find out why you haven't been to the meetings lately?" Bush responded.
"I got this new Zelda game; the pieces of the triforce aren't going to find themselves."
"Cool!" Bush exclaimed, "Can I play?"
"It's a single player game; you can watch. So why are you dressed as a gorilla?"
"I got Daschle a phony newspaper saying that a gorilla escaped from the zoo. Now I'm going to go to his office and maul that weasel. It'll be so funny! He'll be like, "Ah! A gorilla is attacking me."
"He wasn't fooled last time you tried to maul him wearing a gorilla costume."
"Whatever. Just come and film it so I can show the tape at the White House Correspondents Dinner."
April 15, 2003
Know Thy Enemy: Syria
We've been hearing a lot in the news about Syria lately, so I got my crack research staff to find all the relevant information about them that you need to know.
FUN FACTS ABOUT SYRIA
* Syria is not in South America.
* Syria just barely avoided being put on the Axis of Evil by sending President Bush a fruit basket.
* Their current tourism campaign in Iraq of proclaiming "Syria is a safe harbor for you, your family, and your chemical weapons." has drawn some suspicion.
* Syria was first added to the U.S. list of terrorist nations when it was discovered that the country was in the Middle East.
* Syria is so evil that France just can't wait to appease them.
* Syria's main exports are electronics, computer software, automobiles, telecommunications equipment, and consumer goods.... whoops, I mean their exports are oil followed far behind by clay pots.
* The Syrians, unlike the Romulans, cannot turn invisible.
* If you are ever chased by a Syrian, drop to the ground, curl up in a ball, and play dead; Syrians only like to murder alive people.
* The country of Syria is completely landlocked, unable to fly for even the shortest distances.
* Syria raised a lot of suspicion when they purchased equipment for making Twinkies since such equipment could easily be converted for making chemical weapons.
* Syria used to follow the Islamic practice of collapsing walls on homosexuals. When their towns became devastated from lack of walls, they instituted a “don't ask, don't tell” policy.
* Syria is currently as poor as dirt. Without oil, dirt would actually be giving Syria foreign aid.
* Reuters would like to remind you that while some may consider Syria a “terrorist nation”, others might consider it a “freedom fighter nation”. Reuters would also like to remind you to stop slapping them.
* Once, while everyone was distracted with an anti-Israel rally, a bunch of monkeys staged a bloodless coup. At first, people found it funny seeing the monkeys playing around in the government's capital - that was until the monkeys started ordering mass executions of dissidents.
* In a fight between Syria and Aquaman, Aquaman would win since Superman couldn't just sit there and watch Aquaman get his ass kicked.
* Military estimates say that the conquering of Syria would take months… unless, of course, you don’t care about all that collateral damage crap. Then is would only take a couple hours and a few beers.
April 14, 2003
Links of the Day
Amish Tech Support has moved to a new URL that someone might actually be able to remember. It's the craziest thing ever!
I found this from the Emperor. Before I read it, I didn't even know our national anthem had four stanzas. All you ever hear is the first one which is actually just a question asking if the flag is still there now that the bombardment had stopped; the rest of the stanzas are the celebration of the triumph of America and its spirit. Taken as a whole, it's one of the most beautiful poems ever written.
In My World: Suspicious Looking Middle-Eastern Men Laugh at All the President's Jokes
"Mr. President I just need you to sign these war plans for attacking Syria and a couple more countries to be named later."
"You'd never heard of them," Rumseld said irately, "Just sign the paper."
"Uh-uh, Rummy. No more wars until you finish your first one. You still have to secure Tikrit, and I need some WMD's to prove to everyone I'm right and they're wrong." Bush then turned the nearby monitor. "Isn't that right, Dick."
"Some clear evidence of weapons of mass destruction will really help our cause," Cheney agreed.
"You will do as I tell you!" Rumsfeld shouted, "I'm the Secretary of War! Defy me and I'll kill you both!"
Bush laughed. "You can't kill us both, silly; Dick's location is undisclosed."
"That's right. You kill Bush, I become president," Cheney said.
"Of course, since I am the only one who knows where he is," Bush muttered to himself, "If you killed me, he would eventually starve to death, so thus killing me would kill him indirectly."
"What!" Cheney exclaimed, "You didn't you tell anyone else where I am this time?"
"Undisclosed," Bush told him calmly, "Anyway, you're going to laugh and laugh when you find out where you are this time."
"Quit jabbering and approve my war!" Rumsfeld shouted angrily.
"No, you finish your first war like a good Secretary of Defense and then we'll talk."
"Rarr!" Rumsfeld yelled as he punched a large whole in the wall.
"Man," Bush sighed, "That's why I always hold these meetings in Daschle's office."
"Rarr!" Rumsfeld cried again as he picked up Daschle’s desk and threw it out the window.
"I think I hear music," Cheney said, "Did you hide me at the carnival again?"
"No, way off," Bush laughed, "Man, this one is so funny. The suspicious looking Middle-Eastern men I told it to thought it was funny as well."
"Suspicious looking Middle-Eastern men!" Cheney exclaimed, "They could only be one thing: terrorists."
Just then, Bush watched on screen as two terrorists wielding AK-47 entered the room with Cheney. "American infidel!" one shouted, "We will make you tell us nuclear secrets!"
"Not if I can help it!" Cheney declared, grabbing his chest and collapsing to the floor.
"We have to help Dick!" Bush cried.
"Where is he?" Rumsfeld asked.
"He’s at the mall in the boarded up store that says 'Soon to be a Dunk'n Donuts'."
"You almost hit me with my desk!" Daschle whined, entering his office.
"What are you going to do about it?" Bush asked, "Cry?"
"Yes!" Daschle yelled, starting to tear up.
"Rarr!" Rumsfeld yelled, tossing Daschle out the window.
"That was funny!" Bush said, pointing and laughing. "Uh... now what were we doing?"
"You were signing my excessive war plans," Rumsfeld told him, handing him the paper.
"Okey-dokey," Bush said as he started to sign it. He then glanced at the monitor. "Man, those terrorists are doing some piss-poor CPR."
April 12, 2003
Some Thoughts on the War That's Not Quite Over
Getting liberated looks like fun. You get to knock down statues and loot like crazy and it's all cool!
Anyway, I thought it was interesting to see the mood of people during this war:
Wow! With the decapitation attack and Shock and Awe, everyone is going to surrender right away and this war will be over quick!
Now that the Iraqis are cheering us - JUST LIKE WE SAID - all we need is to find some WMD's and then we'll prove we're totally right about everything and can be like, "That's why we don't listen to other countries: because we're right about everything and you're all turds." Let's then use the WMD's on France and Germany and say, "Since you said Iraq didn't have WMD's, these can't be WMD's we're using on you now and you can't get mad." But they probably will get mad. Hypocrites.
April 11, 2003
While I'm Asking Questions...
This was one I asked a while back before I had very many readers. I still wonder if this really is a legal loophole. I'll just reprint the question in its entirety:
Let's say you're a supervillian, and you hatch some plot to block out the sun from the entire world - say by causing a nuclear winter using stolen nukes - is it then impossible to prosecute that supervillian? Blocking out the sun would affect everyone in the world, so everyone would have to excuse themselves from being a juror or a judge since everyone was personally affected by the crime. So have I found a "supervillian loophole" to our legal system that we need to correct?
Just a Question
I couldn't think of anything to write today as I've been sleepy, tired, and busy, but I just been wondering about this SARS thing. I hadn't paid much attention to it with the war going on and all, but is this some sort of super virus that is going to eventually spread worldwide creating an apocalypse? If anyone knows, please tell me.
April 10, 2003
Frank Idea for a Worldwide Holiday
That was a great thing to see all those Iraqis celebrating when the statue of Saddam was torn down (though I could imagine Kofi Anan watching and thnking "This would never have happened if we allowed inspections to run their course!"). That's exactly what I was hoping and praying for in this war. I admit, sometimes the news coverage got me worried that Iraqis wouldn't be welcoming us in the end, but I'm glad to now see it. This was never about what Michael Moore or any other assclown thought about the war, it's what the Iraqis thought about it, and they wanted this war. They wanted to be free. To me, that more important that the WMD stuff, because there are so many dictators out there just looking for a kill'n, and I don't see why we can't just do 'em all in. If the U.S. military wants to form a group where we just keep going from country to country, smiting evil, I'll quit my cushy job and sign up for that one.
Of course, America is celebrated now in Iraq, but we know that won't last forever. We're big guys, though, and we do things 'cause their right, not because we'll always be getting thank-yous. Still, maybe as a way to keep other countries appreciative of America there could be a worldwide "Thank America" day where all countries celebrate how much America has done for them. I even started making a song for it. I don't know what the tune will be, but hopefully it can have some sort of techno beat.
THE PRAISE AMERICA SONG
It's just a start; any submissions for more verses would be appreciated. Remember, this is a song for non-Americans to sing to praise America.
April 09, 2003
Links of the Day
Been kind of tardy on these lately. Anyhoo...
The Carnival is in town.
John Hawkins shows us once again just how depraved humans can be by finding laments of the celebration at Baghdad. It shows good sense that the Democrats keep these people underground.
My arch-nemesis Scrappleface puts things into perspective.
Rachel Lucas takes on uber-idiot Brian Sewell who said that the rescue of Jessica Lynch made him want to puke.
The Emperor gets all mushy.
Actaully, all this jubilation is getting to me to. I think I'll have to make a happy post for tomorrow.
In My World: Laser Guided Concrete Makes Great Practical Jokes
"Man, do I still got to do all these press conferences," White House Press Secretary Ari Fleischer complained, “I thought I had all of you idiots embedded."
"Hey, we have important questions and you should give us respect," complained one reporter.
"Just start asking your questions before I decide to embed my foot up your ass."
"Was the tank attack against the journalists in the Palestine hotel on purpose?"
"Of course not. What idiot would think that?"
"Well, there is the transcript of the communications in the tank:
VOICE1: Hey, there is that hotel full of journalists."
"Whatever," Fleischer responded, "Evidence never proves anything. The coalition forces do their best to no harm non-combatants. We even have come up with this laser guided concrete to avoid collateral damage. They just drop out of the sky, crushing the target with a huge piece of concrete and harming nothing else. It was adapted from the work of Prof. Wile E. Coyote who developed a laser guided anvil for the purpose of hunting a variety of quick moving desert bird."
"Will we be able to hear from this Prof. Coyote?"
"Unfortunately, no. In extremely tragic and unfunny turn of events, Prof. Coyote was himself crushed by the anvil instead of the intended target. He left behind a wife and three kids.
"Anyhoo, the reason I am having the press conference out in this field is so I could demonstrate this concrete bomb. Just stare at the old building over yonder."
"Because that's where you are dropping the bomb?" inquired one reporter.
"Yeah... uh... because that is where I am dropping the bomb," Fleischer said, trying to hold back a laugh. "Now make sure everyone watches it carefully and does not pay attention to what I am doing." Fleischer now aimed a laser on the group of reporters.
"Hey, he's targeting us!" one yelled. They all ran just in time for a large concrete bomb to drop in the center of them.
"You tried to kill us all!" accused one reported.
"No, as I explained to you, it's an inert bomb. It would have just crushed those directly beneath it... hopefully one being Helen Thomas." He saw her approaching with a question. "But no such luck."
"Are you happy now that you've killed Iraqi children?" Thomas asked.
"We didn't kill Iraqi children, you old bat. Actually, I have a drawing from a five-year-old Iraqi boy I want you to see." He produced a crayon drawing. "See, here he drew you. And here he drew a bus that is running you over. Here he drew himself smiling while this happens. Iraqi children hate you, you old hag, just like I hate you."
"You stole my pills again!" Thomas yelled, "Give me back my pills!"
Just then President Bush ran up. "That concrete bomb gave me a great idea!" he exclaimed, "Let's go throw bricks through the windows at the Democrats; headquarters!"
"I'm there, dude!" Fleischer said, running off with Bush.
"But we have more questions!" yelled one reporter. "Wait a second... is he pointing another laser at us? Run!"
April 08, 2003
War is Swell
I'm confused; did we like win the war now? In the beginning we had this "Shock and Awe" and we were like, "Wow, this is going to be over quick!" but then resistance seemed higher than expected and we thought, "Man, I guess this will take months." and then like a week later we're in Saddam's palace rifling through his DVD's. Oh, and see that crater full of rubble? We think that's him and his sons, Uday and Umbassday.
And now we think we found chemical weapons like we always said he had. We should make the French eat them. Also, Iraqis are cheering us on. I heard this touching story of how a six-year-old Iraqi girl handed an American soldier a card written on it, "Me love America. Protestors are dumb f__ks. I want stab them." So, in the end, America is right about everything and stupid hippies are wrong about everything and smelly. This was like the best war ever; if there were Academy Awards for war, we'd like totally sweep them. Largest Explosions, Best Avoidance of Civilian Casualties, Best Costume Design, Best Rifle Accuracy, Best Special Effect, Best Use of Airstrikes in a Supporting Role - those would all be ours.
What I hope most people take out of this war, though, is the fact that if you piss off America, it doesn't matter if the French are on your side or if hippies smell bad and wave signs, we will kill your ass. And we will steal your DVD's.
April 07, 2003
In My World: To the Victor Goes the Renaming
"So anymore questions about how brilliantly the war is going?" Rumsfeld asked the press.
"Why don't you just tell us how great the war is going and you don't hurt any of us?" suggested one reporter.
"I'll tell you how well the war is going, but no promises on that second part. Operation Make Iraqis Dead and Take Their Oil is going great!"
Condoleezza Rice whispered into his ear. "I don't care what's it's called as long as we get to kill evil foreigners!" Rumsfeld yelled. "Anyway, our forces are dominating the pathetic Iraqi resistance. We hardly even have to engage them anymore. Their vehicles explode on site of our tanks. Their troops spontaneously combust just thinking about having to fight us. We have completely surrounded Baghdad. Nothing can get past us now. Earlier, a monkey riding a camel tried to get past our blockade. I am proud to tell you that that monkey and that camel were so riddled with bullets so as to be unidentifiable."
"Poor monkey," said one of the reporters.
"There will be no sympathy for the enemy!" Rumsfeld shouted angrily.
"What about reports that coalition forces have begun renaming buildings in Iraq?" a reporter asked.
"Yes, we have more appropriately named some buildings. The Saddam Hussein Airport is now the Baghdad Airport. The Saddam Hussein Theater is now the Baghdad Theater. The Saddam Hussein Hospital is now the Saddam Hussein Memorial Hospital. Also, we renamed Basra Funkytown. And we started renaming the P.O.W.'s; too many were named Mohammed. Also, I kinda find it funny to see an Iraqi soldier named 'Cody'."
"You can't just rename whomever you please!" said a shocked reporter.
"Yes I can! Your name is now Polly Prissypants," Rumsfeld told the man. Rice then handed him his new social security card.
"I don't want a new name!" the reporter complained.
"Quiet, Polly Prissypants!" Rumsfeld shouted.
"So are you sure that Saddam is dead?" asked another reporter.
"We are not. He has too many of those damn look-alikes. Actually, there has been some suggestions that the original Saddam was a kindly man who loved puppies and wanted nothing more than peace in the middle east, but then he was killed and replaced by an evil, warmongering look-alike. To make sure we stop him, we're killing everyone who looks like Saddam."
"You can't just discriminately kill people like that!" declared a reporter.
"You know, with a bushy mustache and a beret, you might look like Saddam," Rumsfeld said, reaching under his coat for his gun.
"There are reports that the smiling pictures of Saddam strewn throughout Iraq have been replaced with frowning pictures of you," said one reporter, "This has caused many children there to have nightmares. Will you assure the Iraqi children you are not hiding under their beds or in their closets waiting to strangle them?"
"I will not take any options off the table in this war," Rumsfeld declared, "Next question."
"Are you afraid of the door to door fighting as you try to further take control of Baghdad?"
"No, because for that operation we have a secret ninja task force I can't tell you anything about."
"What can you tell us about this secret ninja task force you can't tell us anything about?"
"Hey, I think I see movement up in rafters!" said one reporter, pointing upwards, "It's the secret ninjas!"
Rumsfeld turned to Rice. "Quick, do something before they find out about our secret ninjas!"
Rice held up a device that flashed in multiple colors and made strange noises. "This is a new invention of mine," she told the press, "Its purpose is to distract and then blind reporters."
"Wow! That is distracting!" exclaimed a reporter as he and everyone else stared at the device.
Suddenly a bright flash came from the device. "I'm blind!" yelled a number of reporters.
One reporter in the back raised his hand. "I'm still just distracted."
"Damn, it needs more adjustments," Rice uttered.
April 06, 2003
But Is It Hate Mail?
I got this e-mail the other day in reference to my Brief History of the Gun:
you are a wang im trying to do a report and found this. yes its funny but its in my way.
So he admits I'm funny, which is all I'm trying to be on this webpage, but, then again, he calls me a wang. So is it hate mail?
Anyway, if you hate me or any opinions I have expressed, please send more incoherent e-mails. They make easy posts.
April 05, 2003
"I'm a Dancin' Man and I Just Can't Lose"
The Iraqis have realeased a new photo as evidence that Saddam is alive and well, protraying him as being quite active despite the war within his country. Experts say there may be reason to suspect that the photo is not in fact a recent picture, though.
April 04, 2003
"Unconventional" Is a Big Word
Iraqi information minister promised Friday that his nation's military would launch an "unconventional" counterattack against the coalition troops. Wow, that could mean anything, but I got my crack research staff to come up with the most likely unconventional tactics the Iraqis may use.
* Swarming us with monkeys on fire.
* Confusing us with interpretive dance involving hand raising and white flags.
* Running away.
* Waiting to ambush us in Aruba.
* Ninja fighting.
* Dressing up as transvestites and pelting us with sling shots.
* Committing suicide.
* Call us names from a safe distance.
* Leader paints half of face blue and then they all charge us while wearing kilts.
* Actually using some sort of military tactic.
* Trying to kick sand in our eyes.
* Hitting their own troops with gamma rays to see if any will develop superpowers instead of cancer.
* Knowing they can’t win against our technology, they try to draw the troops into settling the war with a disco dance competition.
* Changing all road signs to trick coalition forces that they took a wrong turn and are actually in Bulgaria.
* Name camels the new military leaders so assassination attempts will be against them.
* Wearing chicken costumes and telling our troops, "There's no one here but us chickens. Bock Bock."
Unconventional tactics can be confusing for our troops, who will just have to stick to their usual attack of shooting things that move. That's how we won all our other wars.
April 02, 2003
In My World: Cheney Wishes Undisclosed Location Was More Disclosed
"We're not nuking Iraq, Rummy," Bush answered firmly.
"No, not Iraq - the annoying reporters. Trick them into thinking that we're having a press conference in the middle of a desert, then we nuke them all."
"I think that's a great idea," Ari Fleischer remarked, "Reporters suck. I hate them."
"I will remind you," Condoleezza Rice told Bush, "that we could spare some nuclear weapons. We have enough nukes to blow the world up eight times, but our computer simulations show that even in the worst case scenario we'd never need to blow up the world more than six times."
"We can't nuke the reporters," Bush said, "Everyone will get mad at me."
"How will anyone find out?" Fleischer said, "All the reporters will be dead."
"Someone might write something about it on the internet," Bush suggested.
"The only people who use the internet are pedophiles and crack-addicts," Rumsfeld scoffed, "No one will care what they say."
"Nuking seems a bit harsh," Colin Powell said, "Can't we just injure some reporters and maybe threaten their families?"
"You weak-willed liberal!" Rumsfeld screamed, "Why don't you just sell us all out to the Communists. I'll kill you!!" He sprung towards Powell, but was held in place by some chains.
"Will those chains hold him?" Powell asked, worried.
"The Secret Service assured me they would," Bush answered and then looked to Rumsfeld. "You have to control that temper, Rummy."
"I'll murder you for telling me to control my temper!" Rumsfeld shouted as he tried to reach for Bush's neck.
"There will be no murdering of the press," Karl Rove announced, his dark eyes meeting individually all those seated at the table, "The prophesized destruction of the Democrats grows near, and we must tread lightly. We simply must manipulate the foolish press into their own demise."
"Sounds good, Karl," Bush answered, "Now let's get to our main business: the war. I have Dick via satellite from his undisclosed location so he can give his opinions as well." A monitor turned on showing Dick Cheney. "What's up Dick?"
"Yeah, Bush, I'm not doing so well. Have you gotten any closer to finding out where I am?"
"Sorry, Dick, not really a priority with the war going on, but, as soon as we figure out where we filed that, we'll send a helicopter to come get you."
"I don't see why you couldn't have just told me where I was staying."
"We didn't tell you so that if you were tortured by terrorists they wouldn't be able to find out where you are."
"But they would already have found me to be able to torture me!" Cheney shouted.
Bush thought about that. "Well, hindsight is 20/20, Dick; what do you want me to tell you."
"Are you sure you can't remember where I am?"
"Honestly, I was watching an episode of The Simpsons when I was told, so I didn't really catch much of it." A thought then struck him. "Do you feel weightless, Dick? Like you could float through the air?"
"No," Cheney answered with annoyance.
"Then scratch that idea."
"I think I hear water flowing nearby," Cheney offered hopefully, "Does that help?"
"Maybe. Anyway, we got to get back to talking about war."
"At least tell me how my family is doing!" Cheney pleaded.
"Uh... who's your family again, Dick?"
"The Cheneys!" he answered angrily.
"Oh... they're cool. Now just chill out, Dick; this is no big emergency. You have a years worth of food their and almost a week's worth of air." Bush looked to rest of the people seated at the table. "Now let's get back to discussing this war."
"Our precise bomb attacks have decimated Iraq's military with minimal civilian casualties," Rice stated proudly.
"This war is almost too clean," Rumsfeld said with disgust. "Our troops thirst for blood and decimation. Their morale will go down if they don't see misery inflicted upon others."
"Actually, I think our soldiers enjoy seeing Iraqis cheer them on," Powell said.
"Rarrr!" Rumsfeld shouted, trying to break his chains.
"I'll have to make your new nickname Mr. Angry," Bush said chuckling.
"I'll rip your guts out for giving me a nickname!" Rumsfeld yelled, again reaching for Bush's neck.
"We have to be careful of public opinion, though," Rove warned, "Some people are thinking we weren't prepared for this level of resistance."
"Then people will die!" Rumsfeld shouted, trying once again to break his chains.
"You have to respect Rummy's enthusiasm," Bush commented, "So are we all set on our main goal: getting that oil?"
"Actually, the purpose of the war is to rid Iraq of its weapons of mass destruction and liberate the Iraqi people," Powell corrected him.
"You’re just falling for the protesters’ propaganda," Bush answered, "They're trying to convince everyone that this war is about liberating Iraqis and destroying WMD's even though we keep telling them it's about getting oil."
"You got that backwards," Powell asserted.
Bush looked confused. "We're giving them oil?"
"Forget Iraq," Rumsfeld said, "That just our first stop on eliminating America's enemies. Did you get my list of other nation I think we should attack next?"
"Yeah," Bush answered, looking at a piece of paper, "It just says 'Non English speaking countries.'"
"I don't trust countries that don't speak English," Rumsfeld remarked, "Can't tell what they're saying. For all we know, they're constantly plotting against America."
"We can't get too mired in war," Rove warned, "We need a significant military victory to correspond with an economic upturn as a final blow to the Democrats, causing them to whither and die as maggots feast upon them."
"I will not have politics ruin something as good and pure as killing people and blowing stuff up!" Rumsfeld declared angrily.
"People, we have to remember what war is all about in the end," Bush said, "It's about people's sacrifice. Our military is composed of many great Americans who have sacrificed their time, some of their rights, and maybe their lives all so they can kill evil foreigners. There is no more beautiful expression of the American spirit than the deaths of smelly, unshaven people who mean us harm."
"My left arm is tingling," Cheney said.
"I'm glad my speech touched you like that," Bush said happily.
Just then Laura Bush walked in the room. "I have rice crispie treats and kool aid!" she announced as she began to hand them out.
"Kick ass!" Fleischer exclaimed.
"Help me, Laura!" Cheney yelled, "I'm lost and I'm having a heart attack!"
Laura turned off the monitor. "You're not going to get any work done if you're watching TV while you do it."
"Thanks for the rice crispie treats, Mrs. Bush," Powell said as Laura headed out of the room.
"Powell got a larger piece than me," Rumsfeld complained, "I'll kill you all!"
Just then the phone rang. "Damn; it's Daschle," Bush exclaimed, answering the call, "What the hell do you want?"
"I just opened the door to my office to find a wall of solid concrete," Daschle whined.
"Why should I care?"
"I know you had something to do with it! You're always out to get me!"
"That's because you're a weasel and I hate you."
"It also sounds like someone is pounding on the wall from the inside."
"Who cares?" Bush answered, but then saw Fleischer motioning him.
"I think I remember where we hid Cheney," Fleischer said laughing.
"Oh yeah, now I remember!" Bush exclaimed, "We turned that asshole's office into an undisclosed location."
"Don't tell him!" Fleischer urged.
Bush put the phone to his ear. "I'm pretty sure I remember your office door always opening to a concrete wall."
"That's not true and you know it!"
"All I guess I can say is that you failed so miserably at not being a dickweed that we were forced to fill your office with concrete." Bush then slammed the phone down. "Dumbass," he laughed as he took a bite of his rice crispie treat. He then noticed an empty chair covered in broken chains. "Ahh crap."
April 01, 2003
April Fools Links of the Day
The Nation has a great set of links to help you fight Bush’s evil and illegal invasion of Iraq.
Michael Moore explains why the country is actually liberal and how his getting booed at the Academy Awards is just a media fabrication. I'm glad we have someone as brave as him to speak out and say what we're all thinking.
This whole site is nothing but hate speech. If we were civilized like France, we'd ban such things.
In My Bizarro World: France Replaces America as a Superpower
"You can't hide anything from us!" declared the intrepid reporter, "Tell us the truth!"
"Stop yelling at me!" cried Rumsfeld, slouching behind the podium.
"Admit you hadn't planned for resistance and your war is a failure!" the reported demanded.
"You can't make me," Rumsfeld muttered, now almost completely hiding behind the podium. "Dr. Rice, please save me."
"No," Condoleezza Rice answered as she walked in front of the press, "I've now taken a political position more consistent with my race and gender thus becoming a liberal democratic, a savior of humanity. And I want to announce that this war is evil and a Zionist plot! In fact, ever member of this administration including the president himself is secretly Jewish!"
"Oy vey! Our secret is out!" Rumsfeld exclaimed, "but it doesn't matter how ingenious you reporters all are, you can't stop our war now that it's started."
"But I can!" shouted a voice from the rear as the doors to the room burst open. In strode a hulk of a man, his clothing barely concealing his rippling muscles.
"Oh, it's Michael Moore!" swooned a female reporter, "The protector of truth and justice in this world... and I can't help but remark how great his hygiene is!"
"After my reasoned speech at the Academy Awards, support for this war has crumbled," Moore declared in a booming voice. "It has also embolden the Iraqis to fight against the U.S. imperialism, and now your troops flee."
"Don't hurt me Michael Moore!" Rumsfeld pleaded as he tried to run. He was stopped at the door by none other than Jacque Chirac and Saddam Hussein.
"America is over as a superpower!" Chirac declared, "But France and Iraq have joined together to form a new superpower - Friaqi!"
"And you are under arrest for attacking, me, a democratically elected leader in your greedy pursuit of oil," Saddam said as he handcuffed Rumsfeld.
"And all Americans are in trouble for their crudeness!" Chirac yelled, "Except for a few of your wisest, such as the paragon of virtue, Michael Moore. And your democracy will be replaced with a much better system where France tell you what to do and think!"
"And new dress code!" Saddam added, "Everyone must wear a beret and grow a bushy mustache!"
"And now the world will have peace at last," Chirac announced, "For all conflicts will be solved with endless debate. Now, as a first order of business, lets ship all those troublesome Jews in Israel into the sea and give the land to the peaceful Palestinians!"
"Hip hip hooray!" cried the reporters, ushering in this new era of peace and Frenchiness.
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